Visit to Bludhaven
by Blackbird in the Rain
Summary: Bruce is called away on urgent business, asking Dick to look after Tim and Damian while he is away, under a strict rule of 'no capes'. Of course, this doesn't go strictly to plan, but Bruce needn't know that... T for language, because Jason.
1. Arrival

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Unfortunately. **

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a story that isn't a one-shot, so please bear with me- I'm still trying to get the hang of this. I'm also fairly new to the characters, so any feedback would be appreciated, and please tell me if you feel any of them are too out of character/I've got anything wrong, and I'll try to do something about it! **

The phone rang in the Blüdhaven apartment, a shrill whistle that jerked the occupant out of his unplanned nap on the sofa and into a panicked fumbling for the receiver.

"Dick Grayson spea—oh, hey Bruce." Running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, Dick leaned against the wall to as he talked to his father, sleep-addled brain running in desperate overtime to try and work out what was happening.

"What do you mean do I have space? Oh… so, Tim _and _Damian? Why can't- _half an hour? _I have work in—no… fine. I'll clear the spare room. See you soon then." With a click, Dick hung the receiver back on the hook and turned to survey his apartment, flicking his hair from his eyes as he did so.

The room looked a mess. Sofa cushions were piled on the floor, mugs littered the coffee table, and wires from the games console spread their reach across the floor. Not to mention all the case files and papers littered on the floor. Dick had been sorting through some of his old paperwork before the impromptu nap, and now he had no idea what he'd been looking for. Sighing, he trudged to the kitchen to put on the kettle for another coffee before kneeling on the lounge carpet and scooping up the documents, grimacing as the files – which had undoubtedly been at least half-ordered a moment before – were scooped mercilessly into his arms and stacked into an _almost_ neat pile.

At least maybe if Tim was here he might force Dick to tidy his apartment.

Barely half an hour later and there was a knock on the door, followed by a thud as Damian pushed Tim into the door.

"Coming!" Dick shouted and, believing Timothy Drake's unplanned collision with the door to be an impatient second knock, he sprinted across the room to open the door. Standing in the doorway were two of his younger brothers, Tim and Damian, and a rather hassled looking Bruce.

"Dick, thank you so much for taking them both!" He rushed, and Dick bit back his catty _'well I didn't have much choice' _when he had been given time to examine Bruce's stressed expression. He tactfully changed his sentence.

"Want a cup of tea? Coffee?" Bruce shook his head, grimacing.

"I have to be at the airport in…" He checked his watch, and then frowned, "I have to be at the airport _now_. Be good boys." He turned to Dick, "No capes for either of them while I'm away. I don't want them to be out in Blüdhaven on their own." Dick glanced at Tim and Damian. For a man who was happy to let his sons run across the Gotham rooftops and beat up criminals, he was strangely overprotective.

"Sure. You'd best be off then." Impulsively and out of habit, Dick hugged Bruce before everyone called their last goodbyes and the door was closed. Damian and Tim looked at him expectantly, bags slung over shoulders.

"Hello, Timmy, Dammi." Dick smiled, hugging Damian – much to his annoyance – and ruffling Tim's hair. "Who wants to help Dick tidy up his apartment then?"

With a dismissive _'tt' _Damian turned around and looked around the room.

"Referring to yourself in the third person will not gain you my sympathy."

"Where do you want us to dump our bags?" Tim asked, trying to be at least slightly helpful. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Uh… spare room or sofa." Dick shrugged, somewhat disappointed that Damian didn't even _pretend _to be pleased to see him. Of course, Dick knew he was happy. He'd just like Damian to admit it once in a while.

"The Fake Robin can have the sofa." He said, before walking off to dump his bags in his room. Tim looked at Dick.

"Well Damian's still as much a little shit as before." Dick looked at Tim reproachfully. Tim shrugged, as if to say 'well it's true.'

"You shouldn't say things like that. I know Damian isn't exactly… friendly… but, you could at least _try." _Tim shook his head.

"I have. It doesn't work. We all know he loves you and Bruce and hates everyone else." Dick shrugged, aware he was fighting the sort of battle he'd had all too often - and nine out of ten times lost. Giving up, he changed tack.

"Dump your stuff in here, if you want. You hungry? I have cereal and… cereal. Might even be some milk that isn't off." Tim was given time to smile at Dick's interesting dietary choices before Damian slunk back into the room, a disapproving frown fixed onto his face.

"You're standard of living has dropped somewhat since you left the mansion, Grayson." He said, looking around the room, "perhaps you should move back in with my father and I." He shot Tim a sly look, "Drake could always live here." He sounded all too hopeful. Dick raised his eyebrows.

"So you miss me do you, Little D?" Amused, he went and stood behind Damian, putting his arms around the smaller boy. Damian just glared at Tim, as if somehow Dick's proximity and closeness to him was the other boy's fault.

"Unhand me, Grayson, before I hurt you." He muttered, but it only felt half-hearted. Dick only smiled, quite unfazed by Damian's threats.

"Well anyway." He began, still hugging Damian, "I have work in an hour, so I want you to stay here and be good boys while I'm gone." He gave them a dazzlingly patronising smile. "I'm only on a short shift, so I don't want you fighting, arguing or preferably even _talking _to each other while I'm away. Is that clear? It's only a half shift, so if I come back and you've still destroyed my apartment, I'll throw you out the window."

"I wouldn't want to talk to that-"

"_Damian…" _Dick admonished, shaking his younger brother lightly.

"Well that's ok, _Dammi_, because I wouldn't want to talk to you either."

"Tim!" Dick snapped. "Be _nice._" Pushing Damian gently away from him, Dick turned to go and get ready for work.

This was such a bad idea.


	2. Home Alone

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. **

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! They all mean a lot to me. I had a bit of trouble writing this chapter. I have no real idea if Damian would like the film, but the Damian in my head would secretly enjoy it. **_**(Damian: If anyone tells Drake that I **_**will**_** kill**__**you.) **_**Anyway! Enjoy…**

It only took an hour of Dick's absence for the fighting to begin, and Tim was secretly pleased that he'd managed to last that long.

It all started when Tim knocked into Damian as he was coming out of the kitchen. Ignoring the fact that it had been him in the way in the doorframe, Damian immediately got annoyed. Tim just rolled his eyes, used to Damian's tantrums and not bothering to rise to the bait. Seeing that his insults weren't having an effect on the older boy, Damian picked up a cushion from the sofa and hurled it – perhaps harder than he should have done – at Tim. It hit the older boy squarely in the back of the head, causing him to drop his mug, spilling its contents all over the carpet in a rapidly spreading puddle.

"What the hell was that for?" Tim shouted. He could loose his temper with Damian faster than with anyone else. "Clean that up!" Damian snorted.

"You expect _me-" _the rest of his sentence was cut off as Tim threw the cushion back at Damian, who had been too intent on his incredulity that Tim would expect him to clear anything up that he hadn't seen it coming.

Neither of them needed any more encouragement. With war cries they picked up whatever cushions they could lay their hands on and selected items of furniture to use as shields. About fifteen minutes into the fight however, Damian discarded the cushion (who wanted to fight with a that soft a weapon?) and threw himself at Tim, knocking him to the floor where they stayed, throwing punches whenever they got the chance.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tim and Damian stopped completely, as if turned to stone. Both wore guilty expressions as their heads turned to the hall. Tim took advantage of Damian's momentary paralysis and pushed him aside, scrambling to open the door. If that was Dick home, they were both _dead. _Slowly and carefully he opened the door, trying to let the visitor see as little of the room as possible while Damian madly scrabbled to clear things up a little, looking at the tea stain on the carpet desperately before pushing the sofa forwards to cover it up.

"Hello?" Tim asked, a broad and what he hoped was innocent smile on his face. The woman in the hallway smiled at him, although she looked slightly concerned. A concerned neighbour was better than an angry Dick though, Tim consoled himself.

"Hello. I'm sorry to be a bother, but I heard shouts and banging, and I wanted to make sure everything was ok up here." Tim inwardly rolled his eyes. Living with Bruce, he forgot that some people had neighbours who could actually hear you through the walls. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a feather that floated to the floor between them. Both of their gazes were drawn to it, creating a lull in the conversation, which was broken by the sound of Damian moving the furniture.

"No, everything is fine, thank you. It's just me and my brother." He wondered if it would be too impolite to shut the door now.

"Oh, well… if you're sure…" She didn't sound so certain. Tim's smile tried to widen, although he felt like if he grinned anymore his face might fall off.

"Yes, thank you." The woman took a step back and Tim took that as a signal that the conversation was over, closing the door with an over-cheery goodbye. He turned slowly back to the centre of the room, almost expecting Damian to attack him again. The boy had done a very good job of tidying, and the place _almost _looked normal.

"Maybe we shouldn't do that again." He muttered. A slightly more peaceful activity was in order, it seemed. He slumped on the sofa and sat still for a while, deep in thought.

_As if anyone like Drake could have a deep thought. _Damian mused.

"Right." Tim said, as if he was about to take matters into his own hands. Damian looked up, suspicious.

"What are you doing, Drake?" he asked, trying to sound more derisive than interested. Tim didn't reply at first, but squatted down to root through Dick's collection of DVDs.

"Have you ever seen 'The Lion King?" He asked Damian, who rolled his eyes.

"Grayson made me sit through it all." Tim smiled slightly. Dick had recently been trying to 'educate' Damian about different films. Disney had been top on his priority list.

"How about 'Toy Story'?" Damian snorted.

"That," He muttered with contempt, "was a ridiculously improbable film." Tim just smiled again.

"Okay then…" He thought for a moment, running through lists of films in his head. What did Damian like, other than beating him up? He liked drawing… animals… cats… The smile was back on Tim's face. He pulled out a couple of DVD's, discarding them one at a time, until he found it. He hadn't been sure Dick would still have a copy.

It was perfect.

"Dick's never showed you 'the Aristocats', has he?" Damian looked long and hard at Tim.

"The what?"

"The Aristocats."

"That's not a real word." Tim rolled his eyes, took the DVD out of the box and threw the case to Damian so he could read it while Tim turned on the TV.

When Dick returned home a few hours later, he could hear the sound of the TV from outside the door.

He just hoped they hadn't turned up the volume so nobody could hear them killing each other. He'd met his next-door neighbour on his way to his own front door, and she had warned him about the shouting she had heard from within.

Letting himself through the front door with his keys, Dick crept into the lounge. What he saw there was not what he'd expected. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it had _not _been that.

"Hi, Dick." Tim smiled, his manner airy. Damian nodded,

"Grayson." He said, before turning back to the screen. Dick raised his eyebrows at Tim.

"What is this? What's happened to my brothers?" He exclaimed, unable to take Tim and Damian's unusual, almost superior behaviour anymore. It was like they had a secret, and neither of them was answering him. Tim just smiled, which was unusual enough.

"We're watching Aristocats. Want to join in?" He scooted up on the sofa to give Dick room. Dick shook his head. He would interrogate Tim later, but he didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Sure, just let me change." He said, adding a mental note to try and take a picture of the scene to send to Bruce.

* * *

**Note: I may not be able to update this for a bit because I have exams and stuff at the moment. Please don't abandon it! Once exams are over I'll hopefully start writing to a slightly normal schedule... Sorry!**


	3. Shopping

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. **

**A/N: So, exams are over! It's taken me about a week to write this, and I don't think it's my best, but I hope you like it. Oh, and I have no idea what Blüdhaven is actually like, I just made it up. Anyway, please read and review!**

Dick had woken up, rolled out of bed and onto the floor, stood up, and pulled on a pair of trousers before he realised he'd booked the day off because of Tim and Damian. Groaning, he pulled his trousers off again an flopped back into bed. It wasn't that he didn't want Damian and Tim here – they were his little brothers and he loved them – it was just that dealing with the two of them together was often resulted in either bruises or a migraine. Dick closed his eyes and pulled the duvet over his head, hoping he would be allowed at least another hours sleep.

"Hey! That's MINE!" Dick was jerked awake as Tim's shout rattled through the walls.

Great.

Just great.

He rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes.

Tim and Damian could sort out their own shit.

* * *

"Hello!" Dick tried to sound cheerful as he walked into the kitchen later that morning, despite his annoyance at the arguing. Tim nodded and continued looking through the cupboards, and Damian gave him a disapproving look over his bowl of cereal – Dick wasn't sure why, although it may have been due to the fact he was standing in the middle of the kitchen in just his boxers and an ancient t-shirt. "So what do you want to do today?" He chirruped, pretending he hadn't seen Damian's glance. Tim shrugged.

"Whatever. Don't mind." Dick looked at him reproachfully.

"I hardly ever see you these days, Timmy, and you don't seem bothered at all!" Tim shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah… but… you probably don't want to amuse us all day. And I _am _sixteen." Dick waved Tim off.

"Pffsht. You're still about ten to me." Tim rolled his eyes.

"Wow. Thanks, Dick." He muttered, before turning back to the cupboard he had just opened.

"So what about you, Damian?" Dick gave Damian a smile, which he returned with a reproachful stare.

"I don't need you to amuse me, Grayson." He tutted, causing Dick to throw his arms into the air in mock despair.

"Come on! You must want to do something!" He cried, refusing to give up. "_Please._" Tim glanced over his shoulder at Dick, who was looking fairly desperate, and immediately felt guilty. He hadn't actually seen Dick in a while, and, if he was totally honest, he missed him sometimes. Not as much as he might have done once upon a time – he had his own life now – but still a bit. And Dick was trying so hard.

"Fine. What do you suggest?" Dick's face brightened considerably.

"Well…"

Damian just rolled his eyes. Whatever happened, he could tell it was going to be abysmal.

* * *

"No, Grayson. Grayson! Get your hands off me before I cut off your fingers!" Dick smiled down at Damian, oblivious to his cries of protest.

"I'm just holding your hand, Damian. For goodness sake!"

"Well stop holding my hand before you don't have any hand left." He growled, making Tim snort.

"Dick just wants to make sure Little Dammi can cross the road safely." He muttered quietly. Damian whirled round, pulling out of Dick's grip and glaring at Tim.

"Take. It. Back." Tim raised his eyebrows. Dick groaned in annoyance, recognising the warning signs. He had at least wanted a few hours without and argument.

"Or what?" Tim asked defiantly. Dick managed to grab onto Damian just before he launched himself at Tim.

"Damian! Tim! Please!" He exclaimed, "People are starting to stare." He added quietly, before looking up to smile – perhaps slightly desperately - at a woman who walked past them, trying not to gape as Damian desperately attempted to throw himself at Tim.

They had eventually decided to leave Dick's apartment (whether through lack of food or Dick's constant worry that Damian and Tim would break something was open to opinion) and venture into Blüdhaven and, an hour-and-a-half after deciding, the found themselves in the city centre, fairly unsure what to do with themselves.

Now, the large shopping mall they had been inevitably drawn to was fairly full, and the bat-brothers were rapidly making a scene.

"Let go of me, Grayson!" Damian was shouting, squirming in Dick's tight grip. The other families in the mall were starting give them a wide berth, and Tim definitely heard someone mutter something about bad parenting before disappearing into the crowd.

"Alright!" he muttered, embarrassed that other people could see him. "Sorry_, Hell Spawn_." Damian ceased his struggling slightly, although he continued to glare. Dick sagged slightly.

"_Right, _you two. Either you behave or we're going home. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all!"

"Drake started it." Damian muttered defensively, and Tim shot him a scowl.

"I wouldn't if you hadn't-"

"**Stop!**" Dick shouted, making both of them glare at him instead. Damian twisted around, bringing his fist down on Dick's fingers and causing him to loose his grip.

"Don't tell me what to do." He muttered, before turning around and stalking off into the crowd. Swearing, Dick pulled Tim after the rapidly disappearing boy, attempting to push his way through the horde of people. Inevitably, however, Damian disappeared around a corner and by the time Tim and Dick reached it, he was gone from sight.

"Shit." Dick muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Do you have _any _idea what Bruce is going to do to me when he finds out I've lost his son?" Tim rolled his eyes.

"He'll find his way home, Dick. Come on, the kid was trained by assassins. It's not like he's going to get lost or anything! Give it a rest and lets have fun without him. Like you said, I haven't seen you in _months._" Dick sighed again.

"No. No. Don't tempt me. I need to find him! I can't let him go wondering off around Blüdhaven. Like I said, what if Bruce finds out? What if he gets into trouble?!" Tim sighed.

"I'm sure he'd be able to get himself out of it…" He didn't even bother saying anything more. Dick had made up his mind they would look for Damian, so look for Damian they would.

_There goes any chance of a slightly enjoyable trip. _Tim thought moodily to himself, before following Dick through the droves of people.

* * *

Damian pulled his hood up, digging his hands deep into his pockets and sauntering through the mall as if he owned it – which, given who his father was, wasn't impossible – he'd lost Grayson and Todd easily – too easily (and he thought they'd actually had some sort of training with Batman) before doubling back on himself just to make sure. Now, as he meandered down past brightly lit shops trying to entice him inside with ridiculous window displays - as if he'd actually need a Superman action figure or to buy himself a new toothbrush – he found he wasn't sure what he should do. Perhaps running away from Grayson had been an impulsive act; he had to admit, although it _was _Drake's fault.

Everything could be Drake's fault if Damian put his mind to it.

* * *

They'd been searching for half an hour and still not found him, and Dick was getting frantic.

"Where else could he have gone, Tim? We've checked all of the floors, shops, we've even asked people if they've seen him, and he hasn't picked up his phone!" Tim ran a hand through his hair; pushing back his fringe and then letting it flop back across his forehead again.

"I don't know… maybe he's…" Tim was out of ideas, fed up, and getting more and more frustrated by Dick's attitude. A small part of his mind kept thinking that it wouldn't be such a big deal if Damian _did _get kidnapped – it was likely he'd be able to free himself, and it would give Tim some time away from the little Bat-brat. Dick, however, was ready to launch a full-out investigation, masks, capes and all.

Dick turned his key in the lock, glaring at it with the moody resignation of someone who knows Bruce Wayne is going to break his one rule and kill him if he finds out what's happened. Even Tim was starting to get worried. They both traipsed through into the living room, Dick continually running a hand through his hair.

They both moved through to the living room, slumping onto the chairs in a dejected manner. Tim leaned back, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

"So… he's in Blüdhaven somewhere, right?" He said, and Dick nodded wretchedly.

"We need to organise some sort of-" Dick stopped abruptly as the sound of a window in one of the bedrooms squeaking as it opened. Tim and Dick exchanged glances before the latter leaped up, heading for the spare room.

Sitting on the windowsill, clearly attempting to be quiet as he shut the window, was Damian. Dick breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Nice of you to join us, Babybird." He said, leaning smugly on the doorframe. Damian swung round, giving up on shutting the window now it was clear he had been discovered.

"Grayson." He said weakly, trying to gain some sort of composure.

"And where have you been?" Damian looked slightly guilty.

"Just… around." He began, before adding, "I don't see how it's any of your business." Damian folded his arms defensively over his chest.

"It is my business, since it's my house you're staying in and it's me who's supposed to be looking after you." Damian shrugged.

"It's not my problem if you can't do a decent job at it. And I _don't_ need looking after." Dick raised his eyebrows.

"You're ten years old, Damian."

"Perfectly old enough to look after myself."

"I think the law would say something else." Damian raised a scornful eyebrow at the idea of staying on the right side of the law.

"Pffsht." Dick's eyes narrowed at Damian's careless attitude.

"You need to start thinking of the consequences of your actions! You can't just go gallivanting around and expect nothing bad to come of it. What if something had happened? What if-"

"What if! What if! Nothing happened, Grayson! I can look after myself." Damian shouted, throwing his hands into the air and stalking out of the room. Dick heard the bathroom door slam shut, and closed his eyes. Not only had Damian run off, ignored him, shouted at him, he'd now shut himself in the only room with a lock.

"We'll talk about this later, Damian!" He shouted through the door, before stalking off to warn Tim he may not be able to use the bathroom for a few hours.


	4. New Arrival

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. If I did, Bruce would hug his Robins a helluva' lot more. **

**A/N: Thank you for all the follows and especially the reviews. I hope everyone is still in character. Please tell me if they're not, or if anything else is wrong/needs changing, and I'll see what I can do. **

**Also, a quick request; I'm trying to work out how to write Stephanie, Barbara and Cassandra, and struggling a little. If anyone has any advice on their characters, it would be greatly appreciated, because I would love to write something with them all. **

**Anyway, rant over! Feel free to now read the **_**actual **_**story. Please read and review… **

The incessant banging wound its way into Tim's nightmares, intertwining with swirling nightmarish images of gates manned by lurid spectres and grinning clowns, interwoven with his frenzied shouts as he rammed his fists into the locked box that had trapped him. Upon the second round of fanatical knocking, Tim jerked awake, his breathing erratic. The haunted banging of his dreams followed him, making him leap out of his skin as they sounded, loud and obnoxious, on the front door_. _Breathing out shakily, Tim smiled at his stupidity. _It was just the front door. _Warily, he pushed back his blankets, swinging his bare feet onto the carpet. Once again the banging thudded through the room, and Tim tensed, padding down the hall on almost silent feet to pull the door open an inch. The sight that met his eyes was the last he expected, making him throw open the front door.

"Jason?" He asked, his sleepiness forgotten, unsure what his older brother was doing, covered in worrying quantities of blood and bent over in pain, in Dick's doorway.

"Dick… help…" He rasped, and Tim realised he must have mistaken him for the other Bat-brother, "couldn't go… to the Bat… Batcave… couldn't see me… like this…" His legs suddenly giving way, Jason flopped forward, into Tim's outstretched arms.

"Dick!" Tim shouted, his voice shrill as he shifted Jason on his shoulder, trying not to injure his brother any further but grimacing as he realised just how heavy Jason was. "Dick!" There was a crashing of feet and both Dick and Damian appeared.

"What?!" He began, and then saw the limp Jason in Tim's arms. His eyes widened in shock, quickly taking stock of the situation. As much as he hated to admit it, this wasn't exactly the first time this had happened.

"Give him here Tim. Dammi, I have bandages and first aid stuff in the bathroom cabinet. You know where? Good. Timmy, help get him onto the sofa."

The three Bat-brothers hurried about the room, Dick placing Jason gingerly on the couch, where he cleaned and stitched his wounds, grimacing as Jason mumbled in pain, an endless chain of swearing that got worse as time went on before petering out as Jason finally fell into unconsciousness. When Dick was done, he stood up, running his hands through his hair and grimacing. Tim and Damian hovered around the edge of the sofa, unsure what to do. It was Tim who spoke up for the first time.

"He said he didn't want to go to the Batcave." Dick nodded.

"Well… I'm not exactly surprised." He murmured. An uneasy silence fell again.

Jason groaned slightly as he regained consciousness, keeping his eyes closed for as long as he could manage before instinct demanded he knew where he was. He allowed his lids to raise, letting his eyes focus slowly. His ears tuned in next, followed by the pain.

Jason was no stranger to pain – the scars that ran across his body served as a testament of that – but no matter how used to it you were, it still _hurt. _

"Fuuck." He reached a tentative hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples, grimacing. On the plus side, there didn't seem to be any blood. On the minus, either he'd been hit very hard over the head, or this was one hell of a hangover.

Both options were fairly feasible.

"What time is it?" He muttered, looking at Dick properly for the first time, dressed in only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and gazing in dismay at Jason's blood on his hands.

"About four fifteen. AM." Jason's lips pulled back into a smile that was more of a wolfish grimace of pain.

"Shit." His head – which he had raised – now fell back onto the sofa cushions,

"Rough night?" Dick smiled, filled with relief. He had known Jason wasn't going to die from his wounds, but that hadn't stopped him worrying. Jason glared.

"You could say that." He growled, adding – as an afterthought – "Got any painkillers, Circus Boy?" Dick raised his eyebrows, partly in annoyance and partly in amusement.

"Naturally." Picking up a box of Ibuprofen from his first aid kit, Dick threw them on to Jason's lap, watching his brother's rough fingers pull out the small white pills and throw them, one by one, into his mouth before swallowing them dry. Gently, Dick took the packet off him. Jason was silent for a while, his eyes roving about the room before his gaze fell on Damian and then Tim.

"So what are Hellspawn and Replacement doing here? I sort of counted on you being on your own." Dick rolled his eyes. _Of course you did, Jason. _

"They're staying here until Bruce gets back from a business trip. As are you." Jason glowered. This was Dick's way of punishing him for getting injured, and Jason knew it. _Serves him right. _Dick thought to himself.

"I'll be fine in an hour or two, Dickie-bird. Don't you worry. Bats need never know I was here." Dick's mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile,

"Don't think he's not finding out you turned up in my apartment in the middle of the night covered in blood. You didn't drive from Gotham to Blüdhaven in this condition just to avoid Bruce, did you? Aside from the fact you could have _died, _driving in that state was totally reckless. Someone could have got injured. It was _stupid._" Jason smiled slightly. _Reckless _and _stupid _seemed to have been shouted at him a lot lately.

"Whatever, Dick. Quit with the lecture already, some of us can _do_ stupid, and I'm not so easy to kill. I was near here anyway… besides, it's not like Bruce would actually care what happened." Jason's smile turned to a glare at the mention of his former mentor, and he scowled round the room at them all, defying them to prove him wrong.

"What happened, Jason?" Dick said, folding his arms.

"Nothing. Just. Nothing. Drop it."

"Did you forget to move out of the way of the sharp, pointy object?" Damian cut in, earning him a deluxe 'next time we meet and Bruce or Dick aren't around I'm going to shoot you in the leg and film it as a present for all your friends' glare from the sofa.

"I said leave it!" Jason snapped making Dick sigh.

"Jason."

"Alright! So maybe I got stabbed a little. Whatever." Damian snorted.

"Pathetic." He muttered, and Jason looked furious. Tim kicked Damian in the shins, beginning a scuffle between the two of them, which Dick and Jason ignored, returning to their quickly heating argument.

"_Stabbed a little _doesn't end up with that much blood. Believe me, _I know._" Jason rolled his eyes. In some areas Dick was oddly remiss. His 'little brothers'' injuries was not one of those areas.

"Just drop it already, Dick. I'm fine."

"If you were fine you wouldn't have bothered coming here."

"Well maybe I'll just leave again then!" Jason muttered, attempting to push himself up despite the shooting pain.

"Don't be a stubborn ass, Jay. Sit back down." Dick snapped, gently but forcefully pushing Jason back into the sofa, where he gave in and flopped back, his face a few tones greyer than it had been moments before. Giving up on wringing answers out of the other man, Dick glanced at the clock. Four thirty in the morning and he was already covered in blood.

Perfect. Just _perfect._

"I'm going to get cleaned up. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to get any more sleep tonight. What do you say to breakfast?" He muttered.

If dealing with Tim and Damian together was likely to end in a migraine, dealing with Damian, Tim and Jason together unprepared and in a confined space was likely to leave him gibbering to himself in a cell in Arkham.


	5. A Situation

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. **

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far, especially to B1udman for the advice on characters, and Magpie of Silver, who seems to have reviewed all the chapters for this with some of the nicest reviews! **

**As usual, if anything's wrong, don't hesitate to tell me. **

**Please read and review…**

Dick sighed as his phone began to ring loudly, cutting through the noise of the television.

"Dick speaking." He said, putting the phone to his ear.

"Dick, it's Barbara." Dick waved at Jason to turn the TV down, glaring when the teen didn't comply. After a hurried conversation, Dick hung up, standing and pocketing his phone.

"Look, there's an armed robbery near here, and everyone else is busy. I'm going to have to take this one." Damian and Tim looked up hopefully, but Dick shook his head firmly. "You're all to stay here, okay? _All _of you. You know what Bruce said, and Jay… don't you _dare _get up." Jason shot Dick a dirty look. "That means you're all going to have to stay here on your own and _be good." _ With one final meaningful stare around the room, Dick hurried out to get into his uniform, emerging moments later still pulling on his belt and mask.

"I'm coming with you." Jason said determinedly, starting to get to his feet. Dick was there in an instant, pushing Jason back into his seat.

"Not a chance, Jay-bird." He said, making Jason scowl all the more, but Dick would not be moved.

"Be good!" He chirruped, perhaps hopefully. The others exchanged glum looks.

Once Nightwing had let himself out of the window, the remaining bat-brothers looked at each other warily, waiting for someone to move first.

It was Jason who stumbled to his feet first, going into Dick's room and pulling out a large box from the back of the wardrobe.

"You keep spare uniform _here?"_ Tim asked, watching over Jason's shoulder as he pulled out a gun and a bright red helmet.

"Why not? Never know when I might need it." He smiled wolfishly, and Damian rolled his eyes.

"Grayson told you not to move." Jason shrugged.

"Since when has that made any difference? You coming, Replacement?" Tim dithered for a moment, before disappearing and reappearing moments later with his uniform over one arm.

"I'll be two seconds." He said, disappearing again. Jason looked expectantly at Damian.

"Devil Child?" Damian glared,

"Don't call me that." He muttered impulsively, but Jason could tell he was wavering between indecision. Either he went with them and got to fight, or he stayed at home and watched, smiling, as Dick shouted them Tim and Jason. The latter was tempting, but…

"I'll come if _I _can take the lead." Jason rolled his eyes.

_Not a hope in hell, kid… _He smiled to himself, leaning smugly against the wall as he waited for Tim and Damian.

Dick was crouched on a low rooftop, cloaked in shadow, a grin fixed on his face. It was a cold night, and the icy wind stung his face slightly, whistling around him and worrying the loose strands of hair gently. In the window of the shop opposite, he could see the men with their guns, happily breaking open glass cases full of twinkling jewellery.

"So what's up?" Dick leaped out of his skin as he heard Jason's rough voice behind him, and a tell-tale clatter to his right that announced either Tim or Damian's presence. He groaned inwardly, narrowing his eyes in the half-darkness and making a mental note to let Jason tend to his own wounds next time he showed up. Putting personal grievances aside until they were finished, however, he concentrated on the task at hand. _He could lecture them all later._

Nightwing gestured to the jewellery store across the street from him, silently pointing at the small gang of five who all carried guns. Jason nodded, putting one hand to his own gun and then sitting still, melting back into the shadows.

Dick hoped he'd stay there and follow his lead.

It was unlikely.

Nightwing was only allowed a second's warning before Jason leaped past him, pulling a gun out of its holster and aiming it at one of the men before he had even stopped moving. Hurtling through the window in a crash of broken glass. Nightwing wasn't even given time to say anything before Red Hood was standing up, dusting himself off with one hand and aiming his gun with the other. For all his calm demeanour, however, Dick could tell the leap had inflamed his former injuries, and the broken glass probably hadn't helped anything.

_Curse the stupid, reckless, idiot. _

There was a slight crackle in Nightwing's ear and he touched a finger to his comm.

"What's he doing?" Tim's voice came down the line.

"Not a clue. Hold back for now, but don't let him kill anyone."

"Got it." Robin, Nightwing and Red Robin were left watching silently, helpless to do anything else.

Jason had shot the window once before he crashed through it, cracking it before he barrelled into the glass, taking most of the impact on his shoulder, confident his helmet would protect his head. He landed shakily, staggering slightly and cursing in the knowledge that Dick – supreme master of leaps and landings – could see him.

"Alright! Drop your weapons!" he shouted to the group, who had leaped aside as the window shattered and were now aiming their weapons at him. Jason sighed.

One of these days he'd shout 'drop your weapons' and they'd _actually _drop their weapons.

"Okay. We do this _your _way then. But trust me. Mine would have been much, much easier." One of the men advanced towards him slowly, gun held up in front of him.

"You're outnumbered. Drop _your _weapon and you might actually walk out of this." Jason rolled his eyes, letting the man come closer. "You're outnumbered…" The man repeated, his fear building as Jason still didn't move.

"What makes you think I'm outnumbered?" Jason said, grinning broadly. In a sudden graceful movement that seemed to contradict his size, Red Hood reached out, grabbing the man by the wrist and pulling him closer, using his body as a shield and bending his arm backwards at the same time until there was a satisfying _crack. _There was a loud burst of gunfire in response to his impulsive movement, and somewhere in the back of his mind Jason wondered first if Dick would choose this moment to make his entrance, and secondly what had possessed them to shoot. They had succeeded only in catching their partner in the shoulder as Jason cast him aside, leaping and rolling. He let himself smile slightly as he saw a batarang whizz over the top of his head and imbedded itself in one of his attackers hands, making him drop his gun.

_Backup. _Jason's smile widened into a grin as he crouched behind a case displaying expensive-looking jewellery. There was a crash as three figures broke through the window, and Jason head Tim hiss slightly as he slammed his hand into a jagged shard of glass, and then Nightwing's voice as he told the men to put down their guns. Jason shook his head sadly at his brother's naivety – he'd just experienced first hand that those guys were waay too attached to their guns - before rolling back out from behind the jewellery case.

"I wondered when you'd show." He muttered in Dick's ear before raising his gun. Nightwing raised his eyebrows at Red Hood's cocky attitude, before turning his full attention back to the men. In one impulsive and predictable (to those who knew him) movement, Nightwing leaped towards a low counter that stood between him and the now ragged looking group, slamming his hands into it, bending then straightening his elbows to lauch himself into the air so he could flip in one fluid movement, flying feet first through the air and ramming himself into someone's chest. Smiling he pulled out his eskrima, batting the gun from a scarred hand and allowing Damian – who had followed his lead – to knock the other man senseless. Tim, on his other side, kicked the last man between the legs, making him double over before knocking him out. Next to the door, Red Hood laughed, although one hand was held over his side, which was starting to bleed where he had snapped his stitches. .

"Time to be off then?" He said as the sound of sirens reached their ears. "I'm not too sure I want a confrontation with the police." Dick shot him a dark look.

"Why am I not surprised." He muttered. "Everyone go home. I'll finish up here and then join you."

Tim, Damian and Jason walked out of the shop, retreating into the shadows in the street before disappearing. Dick grimaced.

When he found out which one of them had been behind their little escapade, there was going to be hell to pay.


	6. Consequences

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. **

**A/N: As usual thank you for the follows and reviews! Sorry it's taken me a while to write this, I wrote it about five times before I was actually sort of happy with it! As usual, let me know if anyone is OOC and please read and review! **

Dick doesn't say anything at first as he comes into the room, letting himself in through the bedroom window and pulling off his domino, removing his costume to the waist and slipping on an old, baggy shirt. He makes his way into the kitchen, still clad as Nightwing from the waist down, and nods to Damian and Tim.

"Good work." He says, as if it was just a routine mission, and Tim and Damian gape at each other, all enmity briefly forgotten in their surprise. Jason, however, just stands leaning against the kitchen sideboard, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Dick nods to him, and mutters,

"Little Wing." And immediately Jason feels like he's about eleven-years-old, still in scaly pants and a cape, and like he's just let Nightwing down on a mission. His first reaction is to feel bad, guilty, inadequate, before he remembers that's ridiculous, and that the Red Hood doesn't care _what _Dick thinks of him. So instead of instantly apologising he raises his eyebrows and grins like a crocodile, all teeth and glittering eyes.

"Hello, Dickie." He mutters, and Dick grunts. Silence falls as Dick clatters around, making coffee for himself. He seems to be working his way up to saying something, and eventually he breaks.

"You know something, Jay?" Dick asks, and Jason cocks his head to one side. "It's counted as a crime to work with the Red Hood. I hadn't actually thought about it that way for a while until tonight." Jason waits patiently, wondering what Dick is getting at. "No matter," He continues, and Jason's more confused than ever, "I just spent fifty minutes with a police officer explaining to me exactly _how _that is breaking the law. He also told me about a little… ah… _incident, _you were involved in the other night." Suddenly Jason knows where this is going, and one hand goes to one of his most recent wounds, which had been so carefully stitched up by Dick. Jason then he wishes it hadn't, because Dick shoots him a concerned look which actually makes him feel sort of guilty.

_Why does Dick have to be so damned caring?_ He thinks briefly, but then he's trying to work out what Dick's endgame might be, and so any guilt is cleared from his mind.

"Oh really." Is all he says, moving his hand to run it through his hair, making the white streak stick up slightly, mixing with the other, darker hairs. Dick continues as if they're having a normal conversation.

"See, this police officer told me the Red Hood got beat up pretty bad the other night, jumping in before the police got there. Apparently the police think Hood wasn't quite sure what he was up against. Seemed like he was maybe, you know, _drunk." _Dick turned round to face Jason, anger knotting between his eyebrows. "Beat up pretty bad as in, _was bleeding all over the place, _and yet he still managed to shoot his way out of there and then, _it would seem_, he drove off on his bike towards Blüdhaven, causing several incidents along the way due to careless driving." Jason shrugged, not quite sure why Dick was so annoyed at him. Dick, however, was still not finished, in fact, he was only just starting. "So it seems a certain Red Hood _lied _to me, Jason, telling me that he was _close _to Blüdhaven, and that it wouldn't have been more sensible to go to the cave."

"So I lied, Dick. It happens all the time. What's so big about this?" Jason snaps, tired of Dick being all high-and-mighty with him. Dick sighs.

"What's so big is that after all I've done for your sorry ass, Jason, you still came out tonight, against my _direct order. _And not only did you come out, you dragged Tim and Damian with you, against not only _my_ wishes, but Bruce's as well. I know you don't care much for dad, Jay, but I thought you could at least show me some sort of courtesy after I saved your bloody life the other night!" Jason didn't say anything. There wasn't much he _could _say. "And then when we were out in Gotham just now - when there were other lives at risk – you ignored everything I said to stage some sort of half-assed stunt that could have got you killed! For god's sake, Jason, don't you actually care about whether you live anymore?" Jason raised his eyes,

"I knew what I was doing, Dick! Calm down! I didn't think you'd be angry about _that, _I mean-"

"Well I am!"

"Why?!" Dick's voice suddenly drops,

"Because if you go and do something that stupid again and it _doesn't _come off, then what's going to happen to you, Little Wing? What if I'm not there?"

"What if? What if? That's all this is, Dick, _what ifs. _It _worked, _okay?" Jason returns angrily, and Dick sighs yet again, raising his voice again as he shouts,

"For god's sake, Jason! There's not going to be a damned Lazarus Pit every time you need one!" Across the other side of the room, Tim and Damian look up sharply, because Dick is nearing a taboo topic. Back in the kitchen, Dick seems to realise that he's said too much of what he actually feels, and practically stuffs a fist in his mouth to stop himself talking.

Jason continues to say nothing, but seems to have deflated slightly.

There's a moment of silence before Dick mutters, "I'm sorry, Jason. But that's how I feel. I'm going to bed." Before stomping out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Jason is left alone in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Shit, Dickie-bird." He mutters, before walking stiffly into the bathroom. Tim and Damian hear the sound of the shower, and turn back to each other.

"That was possibly un-tactful of Grayson." Damian murmurs, to the room at large more than to Tim. Tim snorts slightly.

"Coming from the master of tact?" He asks, earning him a cushion in the face.


	7. Departure

**Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own any of the characters.**

**A/N: I'm not really sure **_**what **_**this is. It wasn't exactly my original planned ending, but… it works, I guess… If there are any mistakes, please tell me and I'll try and correct them. Thank you for all the follows/reviews. **

Dick finds Jason the next morning sitting on the fire escape outside his apartment, smoking a cigarette and brooding darkly.

"Jay." He says, by way of greeting, and Jason grunts.

"Dick." And Dick isn't sure if it's a greeting or an insult, which makes him smile slightly, because Jason's kind of predictable sometimes. He leans on the railing that Jason's perched on, and they're silent for a little while.

"Look, about what I said…" Dick starts, and Jason turns his head to look at him, raising his eyebrows in something akin to amusement and exhaling smoke into Dick's face so he coughs slightly, meaning he can't continue and Jason has time to break in,

"Don't mention it, Dickie. You could have said worse." He says, and Dick falls silent again. Jason stretches out his legs, causing his knees to click, and Dick vaguely worries that he might fall of the railing onto the street below, and then shakes the worry aside. Instead, he smiles slightly and looks at Jason, who's staring out at the buildings opposite them, miles away, the cigarette drooping from his fingers.

"You know, smoking those things is going to give you cancer one of these days." Dick says, and Jason chuckles at the familiar line.

"There's things far more likely to kill me than smoking." He says, and then they fall silent, because the topic of death seems to have come up a lot lately. A chilly wind blows, playing with their hair before dropping it and moving off down the street.

"I thought I might cook breakfast." Dick says, and Jason fixes him with a doubtful look, blowing out loudly with a cynical sound.

"What?" Dick mutters, insulted.

"Dick. The only thing you've ever been able to successfully cook is food poisoning. You know that, right?" And Dick smiles impishly, hopefully, making Jason rolls his eyes.

"You manoeuvred me into that one, didn't you?" Jason says, swearing good-naturedly and punching Dick lightly in the arm. "Fine! But I'm only going to cook because I want to protect the Demon and Replacement from either endless cereal or homemade e-coli." Dick laughs and raises his eyebrows, knowing he should be insulted, but not bothering with that because suddenly it's occurred to him that it's nice that Jason's talking to him, let alone _cooking _for him.

"Liar. You love it really." He replies, and Jason rolls his eyes before swinging his feet back over the railing of the fire escape, 'accidentally' kicking Dick in the chest as he does so, and stubbing out his cigarette on the black metal rail before throwing the end into the street below. Dick tuts, but Jason just pushes him inside, laughing slightly.

Dick isn't half predictable sometimes.

"Grayson, what is this?" Damian asks, looking down at the plate in front of him, and Jason sighs slightly, because _speaking of predictability… _

"It's breakfast, Dammi!" Dick smiles cheerily, and Damian rolls his eyes.

"Tt. I can see that, Grayson. What I meant is, why did Todd cook breakfast?"

"Because he's the only one who can actually cook, Demon." Tim says, slumping down in a chair, hair ruffled on one side where he's been sleeping on it. Jason gives an almost grateful nod in the direction of Tim.

"For once, the Replacement actually knows what he's talking about." He says, and Tim doesn't even bother telling him not to call him 'Replacement'.

He also doesn't say that he suspects one of the reasons cooked for them is that he likes to feel both useful and wanted.

But then there's a lot Tim notices and doesn't say, and the discussion soon moves on.

Once they've all sat down, they actually manage a half-polite conversation, and Jason's pleased to see that Damian – after initial protests of food poisoning and certain death – eats the food.

And Dick looks a lot happier now, chatting like… well, like Dick, so Jason hopes maybe the night before has been forgotten, at least for now, because Dick's loudly chiding Tim, who's just pulled out his phone.

"No phones at the table, Timbo!" Dick exclaims as Tim glances at his expensive-looking mobile.

"Since when has that been a rule?" He mutters, and Dick makes a move as if to grab the offending mobile device from Tim, which he anticipates and slides his chair backwards.

"Since I decided it was a rule." Dick pouts, pretending to be hurt that Tim has moved away from him. Damian, behind Tim, grabs the phone and leaps backwards, out of reach, making Tim shout in annoyance and nearly fall backwards off his chair. Damian and Jason laugh, and Jay takes the phone off Damian, eyes flicking over the screen.

"Texting his boyfriend." Jason mutters, grinning maliciously at Tim, who turns slightly pink.

"Give. It. Back." Tim snarls, reaching for the phone, but he's fairly tiny compared to Jason's bulk and his efforts are virtually unnoticed.

"Why? Something you don't want us to see?"

"No. It's just… my… _Ugh! _Just give me the phone, Jason."

"Definitely his boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend!" Jason raises his eyebrows and looks at Tim in the most condescending manner he can muster, and Tim leaps for his phone, this time succeeding in grabbing it out of Jason's hand, and all manner of polite conversation is ended as they all argue good naturedly (or not, in some cases). Then suddenly in the middle of it all there's a knock on the door and Dick gets up to get it, stifling his grin.

"Oh, hey, Dad!" They hear Dick exclaim from the doorway, and the party atmosphere is somewhat subdued as Jason stops laughing. "Yeah, we were just having breakfast, yeah… come in!" Bruce and Dick appear in the doorway, and Bruce's eyes sweep the room, landing on Jason.

"Hi, boys." He says, his voice tired but maybe almost happy, "Jason." Jay nods back and Dick gets another chair and somehow manages to get Bruce to sit down and have some coffee, and Tim's almost relieved because nobody's paying him as much attention anymore, although Damian does seem to change, to become more mature, and Jason's back seems to have stiffened slightly, although Dick's still the same, smiling at them all.

"So… what have you been up to while I've been away?" Bruce asks, and there's a brief silence before Dick suddenly speaks up,

"You know, nothing much. Jay dropped round to say hi, and we uh, went shopping and… yeah!" And if Bruce is suspicious, he doesn't show it, despite the fact that usually Dick's the worst liar out of all of them, and the side of Jason's mouth has twitched up into a half smile, which is one of his tells.

Tactfully, Tim moves the conversation on again, and they actually find themselves enjoying the time together.

When Tim and Damian have left, however, and Jason and Dick are left alone in the sudden quiet, Jason turns to Dick.

"You lied to him. You lied so badly anyone could have seen through it, and he actually believed you." He smiles good naturedly, and Dick raises an eyebrow.

"If you're going to be like that I'm going to phone Bruce and tell him the truth, Jay. Don't think I won't." And Jason just continues to smile for a moment, before he picks up his jacket from one arm of the sofa where it's been thrown.

"Well, I'd better be going too, Goldie." He says awkwardly, and Dick nods.

"Yeah."

"Well… thanks, I guess… for everything." Dick steps forward to hug him, but Jason knows exactly what's coming and ducks under his arms and towards the door, opening it and shouting a hasty,

"Not a chance, Bird Brain!" to which Dick shouts,

"Hate you too, Little Wing!" Before the door is slammed shut and he flops back onto the sofa, smiling contentedly.

Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?


End file.
